The White Knight: Tirant lo Blanc E-Book

Joanot Martorell

• Herausgeber: Lebooks Editora
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 796

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2024

Beschreibung

The White Knight: Tirant lo Blanc is a remarkable exploration of chivalry, love, and the complexities of human ambition. Written by Joanot Martorell and Martí Joan de Galba, this seminal work blends elements of romance and realism to critique the ideals of medieval knighthood. The story follows Tirant, a knight of extraordinary skill and virtue, as he navigates battles, courtly love, and political intrigues, offering a vivid portrayal of both the heroism and the vulnerabilities of its characters. From its publication, Tirant lo Blanc has been celebrated for its innovative approach to the chivalric tradition. Rather than depicting an idealized hero, it presents a protagonist marked by both triumphs and human flaws, bridging the gap between legend and reality. The work's intricate narrative structure and its nuanced portrayal of themes such as love, loyalty, and the pursuit of glory have inspired numerous adaptations and remain influential in the study of medieval literature. The enduring relevance of Tirant lo Blanc lies in its capacity to question the ideals it portrays. By delving into the struggles of its characters, it offers a timeless commentary on the aspirations and limitations of human nature. The novel continues to resonate with modern readers, not only as a cornerstone of Catalan literature but also as a profound reflection on the challenges of heroism, love, and the human condition.

Leseprobe

Johanot Martorell

THE WHITE KNIGHT: TIRANT LO BLANC

Contents

INTRODUCTION

THE WHITE KNIGHT: TIRANT LO BLANC

CHAPTER I – COUNT WILLIAM OF WARWICK

CHAPTER II – THE TOURNAMENT

CHAPTER III – SICILY

CHAPTER IV – CONSTANTINOPLE

CHAPTER V – THE BATTLEFIELD

CHAPTER VI – A TRUCE

CHAPTER VII – IN THE PRINCESS'S BED

CHAPTER VIII – THE BETROTHAL

CHAPTER IX –  WIDOW REPOSE

CHAPTER X – THE BARBARY COAST

CHAPTER XI – PLAERDEMAVIDA

CHAPTER XII – CONQUEST

CHAPTER XIII – THE WEDDING

CHAPTER XIV – DEATH

CHAPTER XV – AFTERMATH

INTRODUCTION

Joanot Martorell

1413 – 1468

Joanot Martorell and Martí Joan de Galba (died 1490) were Valencian writers known for their seminal contribution to medieval literature: Tirant lo Blanch (Tirant the White). Written in Valencian and published in 1490, the work is considered a landmark in European literary history, blending chivalric romance, realism, and satire. Often hailed as a precursor to the modern novel, it offers a unique perspective on knighthood and human nature, distinguishing itself from traditional chivalric tales.

Early Life and Background

Joanot Martorell was born into a noble Valencian family and lived a life marked by chivalric pursuits, legal disputes, and travel. His experience as a knight deeply influenced his writing, providing the foundation for Tirant lo Blanch. Martorell began the novel around 1460 but died before completing it.

The unfinished manuscript was inherited by Martí Joan de Galba, a fellow Valencian nobleman and literary figure. Little is known about Galba's life, but his editorial work and additions to Tirant lo Blanch were pivotal in shaping its final form. Together, their contributions created a rich, multifaceted narrative that combined Martorell’s firsthand experience with Galba’s literary refinement.

Career and Contributions

Tirant lo Blanch tells the story of Tirant, a knight renowned for his military skill and human complexity. Unlike the idealized heroes of typical chivalric romances, Tirant is portrayed as both heroic and flawed, navigating battles, courtly love, and personal dilemmas. The novel’s attention to detail, from military strategies to character development, reflects a departure from the fantastical and embraces a grounded, realistic narrative.

Martorell’s portion of the work is characterized by vivid descriptions and an adventurous tone, while Galba’s additions expanded the plot and introduced new layers of depth. Together, they crafted a story that blends humor, romance, and subtle critiques of chivalric ideals.

The novel received high praise from later authors, including Miguel de Cervantes, who referred to it as “the best book in the world” in Don Quixote. This recognition underscores its influence on Spanish and European literature.

Impact and Legacy

Tirant lo Blanch was revolutionary for its time, offering a nuanced and humanized depiction of knights and their struggles. It challenged the conventions of the chivalric genre by presenting characters with relatable emotions and motivations. The work’s mix of realism and satire prefigured the modern novel, making it a cornerstone of Catalan literature and an enduring influence on writers like Cervantes.

The novel’s realistic portrayal of medieval society and its emphasis on character psychology set it apart from other chivalric romances. It continues to be celebrated for its innovative narrative structure and its exploration of themes such as love, loyalty, and the complexity of human ambition.

Joanot Martorell died in 1468, leaving his work unfinished. Martí Joan de Galba completed and edited the manuscript, ensuring its publication in 1490 in Valencia. The collaboration between the two authors resulted in a literary masterpiece that transcended their individual contributions.

Today, Tirant lo Blanch is recognized as one of the most important works of medieval literature, bridging the transition from the medieval to the modern literary tradition. It remains a vital text for understanding the evolution of storytelling, showcasing the enduring power of collaboration in the creation of art.

About the work

The White Knight: Tirant lo Blanc is a remarkable exploration of chivalry, love, and the complexities of human ambition. Written by Joanot Martorell and Martí Joan de Galba, this seminal work blends elements of romance and realism to critique the ideals of medieval knighthood. The story follows Tirant, a knight of extraordinary skill and virtue, as he navigates battles, courtly love, and political intrigues, offering a vivid portrayal of both the heroism and the vulnerabilities of its characters.

From its publication, Tirant lo Blanc has been celebrated for its innovative approach to the chivalric tradition. Rather than depicting an idealized hero, it presents a protagonist marked by both triumphs and human flaws, bridging the gap between legend and reality. The work’s intricate narrative structure and its nuanced portrayal of themes such as love, loyalty, and the pursuit of glory have inspired numerous adaptations and remain influential in the study of medieval literature.

The enduring relevance of Tirant lo Blanc lies in its capacity to question the ideals it portrays. By delving into the struggles of its characters, it offers a timeless commentary on the aspirations and limitations of human nature. The novel continues to resonate with modern readers, not only as a cornerstone of Catalan literature but also as a profound reflection on the challenges of heroism, love, and the human condition.

THE WHITE KNIGHT: TIRANT LO BLANC

CHAPTER I – COUNT WILLIAM OF WARWICK

In the fertile, rich and lovely island of England there lived a most valiant knight, noble by his lineage and much more for his courage. In his great wisdom and ingenuity he had served the profession of chivalry for many years and with a great deal of honor, and his fame was widely known throughout the world. His name was Count William of Warwick. This was a very strong knight who, in his virile youth, had practiced the use of arms, following wars on sea as well as land, and he had brought many battles to a successful conclusion.

The count found himself at the advanced age of fifty-five, and moved by divine inspiration he decided to withdraw from the practice of arms and make a pilgrimage to the holy land of Jerusalem. This virtuous count wanted to go, because he felt sorrow and contrition for the many deaths he had caused in his youth.

That evening he told the countess, his wife, about his plans, and although she was virtuous and discreet, she became very upset at the news because she loved him so much. In the morning the count had all his servants, both men and women, come to him, and he said:

"My children and most faithful servants, it is the will of His Divine Majesty that I should leave you, and the time of my return is uncertain. Since the journey will be very dangerous, I want to pay each of you now for all the good services you have rendered to me."

He had a large chest full of money brought out, and to each of his servants he gave much more than he owed, so that they were all very satisfied. Then he gave the countess all his land and all his rights. And he ordered that a ring of gold be made with his and the countess's coat of arms on it, and this ring was made in such a way that it was divided into two parts. Each part was a complete ring in itself, showing half the coat of arms of each of them, and when the two halves were joined together the entire coat of arms could be seen.

When all this had been done, he turned to the virtuous countess, and said kindly:

"I know that you will accept my departure with love and patience, and if it is God's will, my journey will soon be over. I am leaving in your charge everything I have. And here is half of the ring I had made. I beg you dearly to hold it in my stead, and to guard it until I return."

"Oh, dear!" cried the countess. "Then it's true, my lord, that you are leaving without me? At least allow me to go with you so that I can serve you. I would rather die than go on living without you. Just when I was thinking that all my misfortunes were over, I see that my unhappiness is only increasing. I'm left with only this poor son as a pledge from his father, and his sad mother must be consoled with him."

She seized her small son by the hair and pulled it, and then slapped his face, saying:

"Cry, my child, for your father's departure, and you will be good company to your mother."

The tiny infant, who had been born only three months before, burst out crying. The count, seeing both mother and child in tears, felt deeply grieved, and he could not hold back his own tears. And for some time he could not speak, while all three of them wept.

The count took his leave of her, kissing her again and again, tears running freely from his eyes. He said farewell to the other ladies, and when he left he took only one squire with him.

Leaving his city of Warwick, he boarded a ship, and sailed with a good wind, and as time passed he arrived safely at Alexandria. There he disembarked and made his way to Jerusalem. When he reached Jerusalem he confessed his sins, and with great devotion he received the precious body of Jesus Christ. Then he entered the holy sepulchre of Jesus Christ and prayed there fervently and tearfully, with great contrition for his sins.

After visiting all the other sanctuaries, he returned to Alexandria. Then he boarded a ship and went to Venice. When he was near Venice he gave all the money still in his possession to his squire who had served him well, and he arranged a marriage for him so that he would not want to return to England. Then he had his squire spread the news that he had died, and he arranged for merchants to write to England that Count William of Warwick had died while returning from the Holy Land of Jerusalem.

When the countess heard the news, she felt deeply grieved, and went into mourning, and she arranged for the funeral rites that such a virtuous knight deserved. With the passing of time, the count returned alone to his own land, having let his hair grow down to his shoulders, while his beard, completely white, reached to his waist. He was dressed in the habit of the glorious Saint Francis, and lived from charity, and he secretly entered a devout hermitage of Our Lady which was very close to his city of Warwick.

This hermitage was in a lovely spot on a high mountain, with a dense thicket of trees, and a clear running spring. The count retired to this solitary place, and lived alone to escape the materialistic world and to do penance for his sins. Living from charity, he went to his city of Warwick once a week to beg for alms. With his thick beard and long hair the people there did not recognize him, and he went to the countess, his wife, to beg. When she saw him asking for charity so humbly, she made them give him more than they gave any of the others. And he spent his poor, miserable life this way for some time.

Some time later the great King of Canary was filled with anger because some pirate ships had plundered a village that belonged to him. He left his land with a large armada, and sailing with a favorable wind he reached the fertile, peaceful shores of England.

In the dark of night the entire fleet entered the port of Southampton and all the Moors went ashore very quietly. When they were on land, they put their troops in order and began to attack the island.

When the peace-loving king received the news, he gathered as many men as he could to put up a resistance, and went into battle with the Moors. The fighting was great, indeed: many men died, especially the Christians. Because the Moors were greater in number, the forces of the English king were destroyed. He had to retreat with his remaining men, and he took refuge in a city called Saint Thomas of Canterbury where that holy body now rests.

The King of England mustered more men, and he learned that the Moors were conquering the island, killing many Christian men and dishonoring the women and young girls, making captives of them all. When this Christian king discovered that the Moors held the pass near a watercourse, he placed his forces in a passage at the hour of midnight. But he did not do it very secretly, and the Moors heard of it, and held back until it was broad daylight. Then they pressed them in a very cruel battle where many Christians died, and those whose lives were spared fled with the unfortunate king, while the Moorish king remained in the camp.

Great was the misfortune of this Christian king who lost nine battles, one after another, and had to withdraw to the city of London. When the Moors learned of it they laid siege to the city. Every day there was heavy fighting until finally the poor king was forced to leave London, and he went toward the mountains, passing through the city of Warwick.

When the countess heard that the king was fleeing to that city, she had food and everything necessary prepared for the night. The countess, who was a very prudent woman, began to think of how she could strengthen her city so that it would not be lost so quickly, and as soon as she saw the king she said to him:

"Virtuous king, I see that your grace, and all of us on this island, are in great danger. But Sire, if Your Highness would like to remain in this city, you will find it abundant in provisions and everything necessary for war. My lord and husband, William of Warwick, who was count in this land, provided this city and his castle with arms as well as bombards, cross-bows and culverins, and many other kinds of artillery. And divine Providence, in its mercy, has given us a great abundance of fruit from the land for the last four years. So your grace may be safe here."

"I am very happy", said the king, "to stay here, and I pray you, countess, to arrange things so that my army will have everything they need."

The countess and two of her ladies immediately left the king, and went with the magistrates of the city through the houses, making them bring wheat and barley and everything necessary. When the king and his men saw what a great abundance there was of everything, they were very pleased.

When the Moors discovered that the king had left the city of London, they pursued him until they learned that he had taken refuge in the city of Warwick. On the way the Moors attacked and took a castle called Killingworth, two leagues from where the king was. Since they had now conquered a great part of the kingdom, the Moorish king appeared with all his forces before the city of Warwick. The wretched Christian king, seeing that there was no hope, did not know what to do: he climbed to the top of a tower in the castle, and watched the huge body of Moors burning and destroying villas and castles, killing as many Christians as they could, both women and men. Those who were able to escape came running and shouting toward the city. Their terrible screams could be heard a good half league away, and it would have been better for them to die than to become captives of the infidels.

As the king watched the immense suffering and destruction, he thought he would die from all the grief he felt. Unable to look any longer at the desolation, he came down from the tower and went into a small chamber where he began to sigh deeply. Tears ran from his eyes, and he lamented more gravely than any man had ever done. The stewards were outside the chamber listening to the king's agony, and when he had cried and lamented at length, he said:

"Lord, Thy compassion and pity will not allow for this. Thy mercy will not allow Thy Christian people, great sinners though they may be, to be afflicted by the scourge of the Moors. Rather, defend and preserve them and let them be returned to Thy holy service so that they may serve Thee and praise Thee and return glory unto Thee."

While the poor king was lamenting, he put his head down on the bed, and it seemed to him that he saw a very beautiful lady coming through the doorway to his chamber, dressed in white damask, holding a small child in her arms. Following her were many other ladies, all singing the Magnificat. When he had finished his prayer, the lady walked toward the king, and placing her hand upon his head, she said:

"Oh, king, be doubtful of nothing. Be very confident that the Son and the Mother will help you in this great trial. The first man you see with a long beard who asks you for alms in the name of God, kiss him on the mouth as a sign of peace, and beg him graciously to put aside the habit, and make him captain over all the people."

The poor king awoke and saw nothing. He was astonished at the dream, and he thought about it a great while, remembering everything he had seen. Then he left the chamber, and there stood all the principal knights, who told the king:

"Your grace, all the Moors have set up their tents in front of the city."

The king did everything possible to have the city well guarded that night.

The following morning the hermit-count climbed the high mountain to gather herbs for his sustenance, and he saw the great number of Moors teeming over all the land. He left his desert habitation and went into the city.

The poor old man, who had spent several days on a diet of nothing but herbs, saw that the city was in deep sorrow, and he went to the castle to beg alms from the countess. When he was inside the castle he saw the king coming from mass, and when he saw him so nearby, he sank to his knees and begged him in God's name to give him alms. The king remembered the dream and helped him up. Then he kissed him on the mouth, took hold of his hand and led him into a room. When they had sat down, the king said to him:

"I beg you to help and advise us in our time of need, for I see that you are a holy man and a friend of Jesus Christ. I beg you dearly, if you love God and if you have charity in your heart, cast off the clothing you are wearing for penance, and dress yourself in the clothes of charity, which are arms. For with God's help and your command we will have a glorious victory over our enemies."

When the king had finished these words, the hermit began to speak:

"My lord, I am astonished that your grace is asking me, a poor, weak man, for advice and help. As Your Excellency can see, my old, weak body is in a state of decrepitude because of its many years and the harsh life I've led so long on the mountain, eating only herbs and bread. I don't have the strength to bear arms. I beg Your Excellency to allow me to decline."

The king became very pained at this answer, and said:

"Reverend Father, I kneel at your feet and with these tears I again beg you, if you are a steadfast Christian, to have compassion on me, a miserable king, and on all Christians. All their hope and mine is in the mercy of God and in your great virtue. Don't refuse me this."

The painful tears of the king moved the hermit to pity, and his heart softened.

After a brief pause while the hermit made the king rise, he said:

"Out of love for you, my king, I will obey your commands and try to save you and your kingdom. And, if necessary, I will place myself in the thick of battle, old as I am, to defend Christianity and bring the haughty Mohammedan sect to its knees, with the understanding that Your Excellency will be guided by my advice."

The king answered: "Reverend Father, since you grant me so much grace, I promise you, on my word as king, that I will not go one step beyond your orders."

"Now, my lord," said the hermit, "when you are outside in the great hall, show a happy and very content face to the knights and all the people, and speak to them very complacently. And when you dine, eat well and enjoy yourself, and show much more happiness than you ordinarily do, so that all those who have lost hope will regain it. For a lord or a captain should never wear a sad face, no matter how great an adversity there may be, so that his people will not be discouraged. Have some Moorish garments brought to me, and you shall see what I am going to do. When I was on my way to the Holy Land of Jerusalem I stayed in Alexandria, and in Beirut they taught me the Moorish tongue, because I was there many days. In Beirut I learned to make explosives of certain materials that delay six hours before they ignite, but when they do, they could burn up the entire world, and all the water in the world would not be able to extinguish them, unless oil and pine resin is used."

"It is astonishing," said the king, "that they can only be extinguished with oil or pine resin. I thought water would put out any fire in the world."

"No, my lord," said the hermit. "If your grace will allow me to go to the castle gate, I will bring you a special substance, and with clear water or wine you will be able to light a torch."

"In faith," said the king, "I will take great pleasure in seeing it."

The hermit immediately went to the castle gate since, when he entered, he had seen quicklime there, and he picked up a little sod and came back to the king. Then he took some water, and throwing it on the quicklime he lighted it the way a straw lights a candle.

The king said: "I would never have been able to believe such a thing if I had not seen it with my own eyes. Now I am certain there is nothing that men cannot do. I beg you, Reverend Father, please tell me what we need to make the explosives."

"My lord," said the hermit, "I will go and buy it, because it is much better to know if the materials are good, and I have made them many times with my own hands. When they are made, Sire, I will go to the Moors' camp alone, and put the explosives near the king's tent. At the hour of midnight the explosives will ignite and all the Moors will run there to put out the fire, and your grace will be armed and waiting with all your men. When you see the huge fire, attack them with all your forces, and your lordship may be sure that ten thousand of your men will cause confusion among one hundred thousand of theirs."

The hermit's words pleased the king, and he gave deep thanks for his offer, and was very happy. He immediately gave orders that everything the hermit had commanded should be carried out.

The hermit, who had left the king, soon returned with the things they needed for the explosives, and he said to the king:

"My lord, there is only one element we lack, but I know that the countess has it. When her husband, William of Warwick, was alive, he had a great deal of it since it can be used for many things."

The king said: "Then I want both of us to go to the countess now to get it."

The king sent word to the countess that he wanted to speak with her. When the countess came out of her room she saw the king and the hermit.

"Countess," said the king, "by your grace and virtue, be so kind as to give me a little sulfur, the kind which causes heat and does not burn itself up, the kind that the count, your husband, put into the torches so that no matter how much the wind blew they would not go out."

The countess answered: "Who told your grace that my husband, William of Warwick, could make torches like that with that kind of flame?"

"Countess," said the king, "this hermit standing here."

And the countess quickly went to the weapons chamber, and she brought back so much of it that the king was highly pleased.

When the king had returned to the great hall where the meal was already prepared, he took the hermit by the hand and sat down at the table, making the hermit sit at his side, honoring him as he deserved. The king's courtiers were astonished at the great honor the king was bestowing upon the hermit, and the countess was even more astonished because she was accustomed to giving him alms. And she said to her ladies:

"Oh, how angry I am at my great ignorance! Why did I not honor this poor hermit much more? Now I see that he must be a man who has led a very holy life."

Rising from the table, the King of England gave the hermit permission to go and make the explosives. A few days later, when they were finished, the hermit went to the king and said to him:

"Sire, if your grace will give me leave, I will carry out our plan.

Your Excellency should have all the men get ready."'

The king said that he would. In the dark of night the hermit changed into the Moorish clothing that was prepared for him. He went out through a back door of the castle very secretly, and no one saw him. Then he went into the Moors' camp.

When he thought the time right, he threw the explosives into the camp, near the tent of a great captain who was a relative of the Moorish king. And when it was almost midnight the fire broke out, and it grew so great and so terrible that everyone was astonished at the enormous flames. The king and the other Moors, unarmed, hurried to where the fire was greatest in order to put it out. But instead of being extinguished, the more water they threw on it, the more brightly it burned.

When the King of England saw the huge fire, he went out of the city, armed, and with the few men he still had he attacked the Moors. And they brought such great destruction to them that it was fearful, and they spared no one.

When the Moorish king saw such a large fire and so many of his men dead, he mounted a horse and fled. He took shelter in a castle he had taken, named Killingworth, together with all those who had escaped the camp, and they recovered their resolve.

He and all the other Moors were astonished at how they had been defeated, and they could not understand what had caused such a great disaster, because their forces were fifty times greater than those of the Christians. When the Moors fled, the Christians pillaged their camp, and day was upon them when they entered the city victoriously.

After four days had passed, the Moorish king sent his emissaries with a letter challenging the King of England, and it said the following:

"To you, Christian king who rules the isle of England, I, Abraim, king and lord of Canaria, say that if you wish the war between you and me to end, and the killing between your people and mine to cease, let us have a joust, king against king, under the following pacts and agreements: If I should defeat you, you will hold all England under my power and command, and you shall give me two hundred thousand pieces of gold in tribute each year. And if fortune decides that you are the conqueror, I shall return to my own land, and you will remain in yours in peace, and you and all your people will enjoy full peace and tranquility. And in addition I shall restore to you all the cities and castles that I have won and conquered by my own victorious hand.

"These words are not spoken for vainglory or out of disdain for the royal crown, but so that God Who is great may give to each that share which, by his merits, he will deserve."

Two great Moorish knights, whom the King of Canary was sending to the city of Warwick as envoys to the King of England, left the castle of Killingworth, and before they departed, they sent a messenger to the city to request safe conduct.

When the messenger came to the gates of the city the guards told him to wait a little while, and they would return with the reply. One of the guards quickly went to the king to tell him. After the king had held a brief counsel, he told the guard to let him in. When the messenger was inside the city, the Count of Salisbury spoke to him and said:

"Messenger, on behalf of His Majesty, the king, I can tell you that the envoys may come without danger and in safety, for they will not be harmed in any way."

And the count gave him a silk garment and one hundred pieces of gold. The messenger departed, very content, and before the envoys came, the hermit said to the king:

"My lord, let us put fear into the hearts of these Moors. Your Majesty should order two grandees to go out to the gate and receive the envoys. And let many men, very well armed, but without helmets, go with them. Have three hundred men at the gate to guard it, armed like the others. And let all the ladies and maidens who are able, old as well as young, hang banners in the windows and on the roofs, as tall as the women's chests, and each of these women should put armor on her head. When the envoys pass by they will see the coats of mail shining, and will think they are all warriors. Have the three hundred guarding the gate follow them by other streets, and let them appear in the square and on the corner. Then, after the envoys have passed by, let them do the same again and again until they reach Your Highness. And you may be sure that they will be frightened when they see so many soldiers after the battle they have lost. Seeing the great number of men, they will believe that many have come from Spain or France or Germany to help us."

The king and all his council thought very highly of the hermit's words. It was decided that the Duke of Lancaster and the Count of Salisbury should receive the envoys, and that four thousand men should go with them, each wearing a garland of flowers on his head. They went a good mile out of the city to receive the envoys.

Then the Duke of Bedford said:

"Tell us, Father, since there are so many ceremonies to be performed for the envoys, how should they find the king, clothed or naked, armed or unarmed?"

"That would be a good question," said the hermit, "if there were not so much anger behind your words. But I see the meaning of your words, and that they are intended more for malice than good. It is because I am old and a hermit that you are trying to besmear my advice and belittle me before my lord the king. Hold your tongue. If you do not, I shall put a bridle in your mouth that will make you stop at every turn."

At this, the duke rose to his feet, drew his sword, and said:

"If it were not because you are so old and you wear the habit of Saint Francis, I would take this sword and cut your skirts right up to the waist."

Then the king rose angrily to his feet, seized the duke and took the sword out of his hand, and had him imprisoned in the tower. All the other noble lords there calmed the hermit, telling him that because of his age and the habit he wore he should be forgiving, and he was content to forgive. But the king would not, in spite of all the pleas of the hermit and the other noble lords.

In the midst of these troubles, news was brought to the king that the Moorish envoys were approaching, and those who had been chosen went out quickly as they had arranged.

When the envoys stood before the king, they gave him the letter, and the king commanded that it be read in everyone's presence. The hermit drew near to the king and said to him:

"Your Highness, accept the challenge."

Then the king said:

"I agree to the battle, in accordance with the conditions your king sets down."

He begged the envoys to remain there until the following day when he would give them the formal reply. He showed them to very comfortable chambers and gave them everything they needed.

Then the king convoked a general council, and while it was being prepared, the hermit, along with the other lords, went to the king.

He knelt at the king's feet and kissed his hands and feet, and very humbly begged him to give him the keys to the tower so that he could release the duke. The hermit pleaded so much, as did the other lords, that the king was obliged to give them to him. Then the hermit went with the others to the tower where the duke was imprisoned, and there they found a friar hearing his confession, because he was certain he would be killed. When he heard the door open he was so startled that he felt he was losing his mind, for he thought they were coming to take him out to execute him.

When the hermit saw him he said:

"My lord, duke, if you and I have spoken harmful words to each other, I beg you to forgive me, for I most willingly pardon you."

When they had made their peace they all returned to the council where the king and all the dukes, counts and marquis were, and they read the letter from the Moorish king once more. Because the king and all the others loved and revered the hermit and they saw that he led a saintly life, and that he expressed himself well and was knowledgeable about arms, they all agreed that he should be the first to speak, and this led to the following discourse.

"I will tell you my opinion, although I realize that I am not worthy to speak of such things since I know little of the use of arms. Because of the weak disposition of my lord, the king, who is young and has a weak constitution and is sickly, although he has the courage of a virtuous knight, it would not be fitting or just for him to do battle with a man as robust as the Moorish king. Instead, let the Duke of Lancaster, who is the uncle of my lord king, undertake this battle, and let our king grant to him the scepter and the royal crown so that the Moorish king will not be deceived and so that he may combat a true king."

Scarcely had the hermit spoken these last words when three dukes sprang to their feet in great anger: the Duke of Gloucester, the Duke of Bedford, and the Duke of Exeter. And they began to cry loudly that they would not consent for the Duke of Lancaster to enter into battle and be made king, because each of them was more closely related to the king, and it was more just for them to do battle than the Duke of Lancaster.

The king would not permit any further discussion, and he said:

"It is not my pleasure that any of you should take my place in battle. Since I have accepted, I wish to carry it out alone."

A baron stood up and said the following:

"Sire, may Your Excellency forgive me for what I am about to say. We will never consent to what Your Highness has said. If our Heavenly Father has indeed given you the desire, he has taken from you the strength. We all know that Your Highness is not ready for such a formidable and arduous battle as this will be. Let your grace be ruled by our counsel and will. If we believed that Your Excellency were disposed for such an undertaking, we would very willingly have agreed to what Your Highness has commanded."

All the other barons and knights praised what this baron had said.

"My most faithful vassals and subjects," said the king, "since it is not to your liking, and you see that I am not fit to combat the Moorish king, I give you my thanks for the great love you have shown me, and I submit to your will. But it is my wish and my command that no one, under pain of death, shall be so bold as to say that he will take my place in battle, except the one I shall choose. Unto him I shall give the crown, the kingdom and the royal scepter."

Then the king said:

"Dukes, counts and marquis, and all the rest of my most faithful subjects, I am relinquishing my station, the scepter and the royal crown, and my title to my beloved father hermit."

He removed the garments, and said:

"As I relinquish these royal robes, and put them on the father hermit, in the same way I relinquish my throne and my station to him. I beg him to accept, and to do battle for me with the Moorish king."

When the hermit heard the king say these words, he arose quickly because he wished to speak, and all the great lords who were there also stood and gathered so closely to the hermit that they would not let him speak, but instead removed the habit he was clothed in and made him dress in the royal robes. As the king turned over all his power to the hermit, it was duly noted in the presence of all the council and with the consent of all the barons. When the hermit king heard the pleas of all those in the council, he accepted the kingdom and the battle, and quickly asked them to bring him armor that would fit him well. They brought him many suits of armor, but of all the ones they brought him there was none he was pleased with.

"In faith," said the hermit king, "nothing will stop this battle, even if I have to go dressed in only my shirt. I beg you, my lords," said the hermit king, "to be so good as to go to the countess and entreat her by her great virtue and kindness, to lend me the armor of her husband, Sir William of Warwick, which he wore when he went into battle."

When the countess saw so many dukes, counts and marquis, and the entire council of the king approaching, and she heard the reason they had come, the virtuous countess gave them a suit of armor of little value. When the king saw it, he said, "This is not the one I asked for. There is another that is much better."

All the barons returned once more to the countess and asked for the other armor, and the countess told them that there was no other. When the king heard the answer, he said:

"My lords and my brothers, let us all go, and we shall try our luck."

When they were all before the countess, the king said:

"Countess, out of your great kindness and gentility, I beg you to lend me the armor of your husband, Sir William of Warwick."

"Sire," said the countess, "may God take this child from me, for I have no other dear thing in the world: I have already sent the armor to you."

"That is true," said the king, "but this is not what I asked for. Lend me the armor that is in the small chamber in your bedroom, covered by green and white damask."

The countess knelt, and said:

"Sire, by your mercy and your grace, I beg Your Majesty to tell me your name and how you came to know my lord and husband, Count William of Warwick."

The king answered: "My lady, because you wish me to tell you, I will. I was in his company continually, for in the wars we were brothers in arms."

The countess immediately replied:

"I beg your lordship to forgive me for not doing all that I could have for Your Highness when you were a hermit. If I had known how close you were to my lord, William of Warwick, I would have honored you much more and given you more of my possessions than I did."

The king was very content with the words of the countess:

"Where there is no error there is no need to beg forgiveness. I only ask you, out of your great virtue and genteelness, to lend me the armor I have asked you for."

The countess immediately had other armor brought to him, covered with blue brocade. When the king saw it, he said:

"Countess, my lady, how well you have kept the arms of your husband! In spite of all the supplications that these lords and I have made to you, you have been unwilling to lend them to us. These are the ones which William of Warwick used in tournaments; the ones I want are hanging in the alcove, and are covered with white and green damask, with the emblem of a lion wearing a golden crown. And if my entering there would not anger you, countess, I am sure that I would find them."

"Oh, wretched me!" said the countess. "It's as though you had been raised in this house! Your grace may indeed go in and look, and take everything you wish."

When the king saw her willingness he thanked her, and they all went into her chamber and saw them hanging there. The king had them brought to him, and he had them repaired.

The battle was arranged for the following day. In the evening the king went to the main church and stayed there all night, kneeling before the altar of the holy Mother of God, Our Lady, with all his armaments upon the altar. When it was full daylight, he very devoutly heard mass. After mass he had himself fitted with armor inside the church, and ate a partridge in order to fortify himself. Then he went out to the field.

When the hermit king was in the field he saw the Moorish king with all his foot soldiers and horsemen. All the Moors climbed to the top of a hill to view the battle, and the Christians remained near the city. The hermit king held a well sharpened lance and had a small shield on his arm, along with his sword and a dagger. The Moorish king had a bow and arrow, a sword, and on his head was a helmet wrapped with a turban.

When the two brave kings were in the field, they charged at each other. The Moorish king quickly shot an arrow which hit the center of the hermit king's shield, passing freely by him near his arm, and at once the Moorish king shot another which hit him in the thigh, but with the armor the hermit king was wearing the arrow could not penetrate it completely. The hermit king hurled the lance at him when they were near. The Moorish king was very skillful with his arms: when he saw the lance coming he deflected it with his bow. By this time the hermit king had drawn so near that the Moorish king could not shoot more arrows. When he was so close that he could almost touch him with his hand, the hermit king cried out in a loud voice:

"If You help me, Lord, it will not matter if all the Moors in the world attack me."

When the Moorish king saw him so near, and realized that he could not shoot any arrows, he felt that he had lost.

After the hermit king had thrown the lance, he quickly reached for his sword, and drawing as close to the Moorish king as he could, he gave him a mighty blow on the head. But he did him little harm because of the thick turban the Moorish king wore! Then the hermit king struck him a mighty blow with his sword, cutting off his arm, and as he plunged his sword fully into his side the Moorish king fell to the ground. As quickly as he could, the hermit king cut off his head. Then he picked up his lance and stuck the head on the end of it, and rode back into the city in triumph.

Imagine what rejoicing there was among the Christians, the women and the young girls, when they thought they were now released from their captivity! When the king was inside the city he had the doctors brought to him, and they ministered to his wounds.

On the morning of the following day the king held his council in the bed where he lay, and it was decided that two knights would be sent as envoys to the Moors, to tell them that they wished to observe the pacts they had all agreed to and sworn to, and that they could go to their own lands in safety, with all their ships and clothing and jewelry, and that no one in the kingdom would harm them.

The envoys departed, and when they were with the Moors they explained their mission to them. They were given lodging, and were asked to await the reply. The Moors told them this in order to do them great harm, for they were now very vengeful because of the death of their king.

Among them a great dispute arose over whom they would make king. Some wanted Cale-ben-Cale, others wanted Aduqueperec, cousin-german of the dead king. Cale-ben-Cale was chosen king, and he immediately ordered the envoys seized, along with all who had come with them, and he had them put to death. They cut off their heads, put them inside a packsaddle, and sent them to the city on a mule. The guards who were in the city towers saw two horsemen driving the mule on. When they were near the city they abandoned the mule and galloped away. The captain of the guards saw them and ordered ten men on horseback to go and see what it was all about. When they got there they wished they had not gone out to see such a terrible thing, and they immediately went to tell the king and his entire council. When the king heard the news he was very much taken aback, and he said:

"Oh, cruel infidels: you who have little faith, for you cannot give what you do not have! Now I make a solemn vow, wounded as I am, never to enter a covered building, except to hear mass at a church, until I have driven these Moors from the entire kingdom."

He quickly had his clothing brought to him, and he left his bed and had the trumpets sound. The first to leave the city was the king, and he had all the men who were more than eleven years old and less than seventy summoned, and under penalty of death they all had to follow him. That day his tents were raised on the very spot where the Moors had been defeated, and the king had a great deal of artillery for war brought out.

When the virtuous countess learned that the king had proclaimed such a summons, and that those who were more than eleven years old were to follow him, she was very upset, for she realized that her son was included. So she hurried to where the king was, and fell to her knees on the hard ground. Then, with a grieving voice, she began to say:

"Have pity on me. I have nothing of value except this son who is so young that he cannot help you. Grant me this favor in memory of your great friendship and love for my virtuous husband. And let me remind your grace of the alms that I used to give you when you were a hermit. Please hear my supplications, and leave my son with me. His father is dead, and the only thing I have to console me is this poor son."

The king saw the countess's error, and quickly replied:

"I would very much like to obey you, Countess, if your petition were honorable and just. But it is well known that men must learn to use arms, and they must know the practice of war, and the gentle ways of this blessed order of chivalry. It is customary for men of honor to begin to use arms when they are very young, for they learn better at that age than at any other. And because he is now at the best age in the world to see and understand the great honors that knights achieve, I wish to keep him in my company as my own son. He must come with me, and tomorrow I shall dub him a knight so that he may imitate the virtuous actions of his father, William of Warwick."

"I am called mother only by this son of mine," said the countess, "and if he dies in battle, what will become of me, for I shall have lost my husband and my son and all that I had in this miserable world?"

When the countess had finished, her son began to speak:

"Madam, I beg you, please do not cry for me. You know that I have now reached an age when I have to leave the protection of my mother's wings, and that I am worthy of bearing arms and going into battle to show the mettle I am made of, and who my father was. If it is God's will, He will keep me from harm and will allow me to carry out such actions that He will be pleased, and they will give consolation to my father's soul, and your grace will be made happy."

When her son had gone, the countess went into the city, weeping, and many virtuous women of the city went with her, consoling her as best they could.

That night the king had the camp well guarded, and he allowed no one to take off their armor. In the morning, when the sun came out, he had the trumpets sound, and they moved the camp to within half a league of where the Moors were. When the tents were set up he let the men rest. This happened after the noon hour.

When the Moors learned that the Christians had come out of the city, they were astonished, because a short time before they had not dared take a step outside the city, and now they came looking for them. Some captains said this was because of the great cruelty of their king, Cale-ben-Cale, who had killed the Christian ambassadors so cruelly, and they said that they might be recruiting men from Spain or France:

"That is why they are coming so near, and you can be sure that any of us they capture will be cut to shreds."

One of the ambassadors who had taken the letter to convene the joust, said:

"They paid us many honors, and as soon as we were in the city we saw great numbers of men in the towers, the squares, in the windows and on the rooftops. It was astonishing to see so many armed men. By Mohammed, I would guess there were two hundred thousand soldiers. And this wicked king killed their ambassadors without reason."

After all the captains had heard the words of this ambassador, they talked to the other Moors who had gone into the city with him, and when they knew the truth of the situation, they killed Cale-ben-Cale and chose a new king. Nonetheless, they armed themselves for battle and went in sight of the Christians.

The sun was nearly down, but they still decided to go up a nearby hill. When the hermit king saw them, he said:

"In faith, they're afraid of us. That's why they've gone up to such a high place. Let everyone do what I do, and with Divine help we will have vengeance on our enemies."

He took a basket in one hand, and a spade in the other, and went in front of them all. When the great lords saw the king do this, each of them did the same, and followed him.

Before leaving the city, the virtuous king had procured everything necessary for the war. Around the palisade he dug a deep ditch that led to a large water hole, and they left a great entryway in the middle, through which one hundred fifty men could pass at one time. On the other side they dug another ditch that led to a high cliff.

The king said:

"Since we've finished, and there are only two hours left till dawn, you, Duke of Gloucester, and you, Count of Salisbury, go quickly to the countess, and ask her to give me two large barrels that belong to William of Warwick. They are full of copper spikes, and she will find them upstairs, in the weapons room."

They went there quickly and begged and commanded her, on the king's behalf, so that she gave them to them, even though she was upset with the king because he had not given her son back to her. But she realized how great their needs were, and so she did it, although she could not help saying:

"Lord, have mercy on me! What's going on that this king knows so much about my house? There's nothing I have that has to do with weapons or war that he doesn't know about. I don't know if he is only guessing or if he's a wizard."

The barons had the barrels of spikes loaded onto carts, and took them to the camp. When they were before the king, they told him everything the countess had said, and the virtuous king burst out laughing, and he smiled and joked with them at length.

Afterward he had the spikes taken to the gate, and they placed them on the ground so that when the Moors came through, they would stick into their feet. He also had many holes, like wells, dug, so that if they escaped one danger they would fall into another. And the Christians worked at this all night long.

When daylight broke, the Moors began to beat drums, and they blew trumpets and pipes, and shouted their battle-cries, and with great joy they streamed down the mountain to attack the Christians. The hermit king ordered all the men to lie down on the ground, and pretend to be asleep. When they were almost within range of bombards they all got up, and gave signs of being unprepared for battle. When the Moors were inside the entryway, the king said:

"Gentlemen, do not dismay, I beg you. Let's turn our backs, and pretend to run away."

When the Moors saw them fleeing, they rushed forward as quickly as they could. They ran inside the entryway which, as we have mentioned, they could not pass through because the copper spikes stuck into their feet. When the virtuous hermit king saw the Moors inside the entryway he made his men slow down, like an expert in war and weaponry, and he saw the Moors stopping because of the wounds from the spikes, while others were falling into the wells that were covered by branches with dirt piled on top. Then the king began to shout with a loud voice:

"Oh knights of honor, take your eyes from the city, and turn your faces to the enemies of the Christian faith. Let us attack with great courage, for this day is ours. Give them a cruel battle, and grant mercy to no one!"

The king was the first to strike a blow; then the others followed. The Moors saw the Christians doing battle savagely while they were all unable to move because of their wounds, and so they were forced to die, and great destruction was wrought unto them. Those who were coming behind saw how the Christians were slaughtering the Moors, and they fled back to the castle they had come from, without offering resistance.

The king pursued them, killing and beheading as many as he could catch. When the king was worn out from his wounds, he stopped for a moment and they captured a very tall Moor of enormous proportions. After the king had knighted the countess's son, he wanted him to kill that Moor. And very bravely the boy stabbed him with his sword until he killed him. When the king saw that the Moor was dead he took the boy by the hair and threw him on top of the Moor, and rubbed him hard against the man, filling his eyes and face with blood, and he made him stick his hands into the wounds, and in that way he baptized him in the blood of the Moor. He grew up very bravely, and in his time in a large part of the world there could not be found so worthy a knight.

When the good king saw that the battle was won, he began to pursue the Moors, and he killed all those he caught. This was the greatest destruction and slaughter of men that took place in that time, for ninety-seven thousand Moors died in the space of ten days. Since the king could not walk well because of his wounds, they brought him a horse so he could ride.

"In truth, I shall not," said the king. "All the others are going on foot, and if I went on horseback it would be very unjust."

They went along slowly until they came to the castle where the Moors had barricaded themselves, and here they made camp and rested that night. In the morning, when it was broad daylight, the king ordered the trumpets blown, and all the men armed themselves. The king put on his royal tunic and went in front of all the rest, and they charged the castle. They were met by cross bows and spears and rocks that were thrown down on them from the top of the castle. And the king pressed on so hard that he went ahead alone, without anyone being able to help him. The countess's son shouted loudly:

"Run, knights of honor! Let us run and help our king and lord who has placed himself in great danger!"

And he took hold of a small shield that a page was carrying, and jumped into the moat to go to where the king was. The others, seeing the small boy going by, all rushed forward at the same time to get to the other side, and many knights died or were wounded. But the small boy, with the aid of Our Lord, suffered no harm.

When they had all crossed over they gathered a great deal of wood, and they set fire to the door of the castle. The boy began to shout as loudly as he could, and he said:

"Oh, English ladies! Come out, and regain your lost liberty: the day of your redemption has come."

Three hundred nine women were inside the castle. When they heard that voice they all ran to the back door of the castle, for there was a huge fire at the other one and all the women were welcomed by the Christians, and among them were many noblewomen.

When the Moors saw the great fire, and that the entire castle was burning, they wanted to surrender, but the valiant king would not permit it.